


The Beginning

by H4T08



Series: Behind the Door [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s01e02 Parallax, F/M, Whiskey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/pseuds/H4T08
Summary: Quickly turning, she holds up her free hand, “I left my rank at the door. I am here merely as a… friend.” Holding out the unopened bottle between them, she smirks, “Especially when there is alcohol to be shared. Call me Kathryn.”





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Episode addition to Parallax.
> 
> This story takes place the night before Chakotay escorts B'Elanna to Engineering for her first day as Chief Engineer.
> 
> Words in italics are the characters own thoughts.

Gripping the neck of the bottle tightly, Kathryn eyes the empty corridor for any crew members. Finding it bare anytime she cautiously turns a corner, she counts down the number of step until she reaches his quarters.

32, 31, 30, 29…

The beating of her heart begins to nervously pound against her chest, far more erratic than when she stands facing down an enemy.

17, 16, 15, 14...

Their relationship, delicate from the moment he accepted becoming her First Officer, has to be cultivated in trust both professionally and personally – _especially now that it's going to take us over seventy years to get home_.

4, 3, 2, 1…

Standing nose to nose to his door, she looks both ways down the corridor to find that it is still quiet. Shaking her head at the covertness of her moves, she takes a deep breath to relax her muscles. Pressing the chime to his temporary quarters, she fiddles with her communicator as a rush of cool air caresses her face. Facing the man that has been both her rock on the bridge and a thorn in her side, she lifts her chin as she greets, "Good evening."

Surprise shimmering in his eyes, a hint of a smile dances along his lips as he sees her cheeks flush a light pink. Stepping back, he opens his arm to invite her in. “Please, come in.” As she passes, the sight of the familiar bottle is almost lost on him as her light perfume inflames his senses. Heavily blinking his eyes to come back to reality, he follows her a few paces before saying, “What can I do for you, Captain?”

Quickly turning, she holds up her free hand, “I left my rank at the door. I am here merely as a… friend.” Holding out the unopened bottle between them, she smirks, “Especially when there is alcohol to be shared. Call me Kathryn.”

Infected by her lack of Starfleet decorum, he turns to his replicator and snakes out two short glasses from underneath it. He knows what she is doing. Despite the worthiness of his cause against the Cardassians, he always made time and effort to get to know the people who he will need to depend his life on; to gain a sense of trust and camaraderie. Although he doesn't see her doing this with the newest ensign - let alone any of the Maquis – he understands why he is the exception. Being both her first officer and the captain of the Maquis ship she was assigned to bring into custody, they need to forge an alliance to show that both parties can work together for their common goal; to get home.

Offering both glasses for her to fill with a thankful bow of his head, he quips, “If you promise to leave ships duties along with your rank.”

Slightly magnetized by the charming dimples from his grin, she silently nods as she focuses on opening the bottle of whiskey. Crinkling the little plastic pieces in her palm, she leans in to place it on the table just behind him. Feeling a sliver of covered skin brush past his knuckles, a rush of electricity on a scale never felt before fires through her veins. Hell bent on ignoring them for the sake of their fragile relationship, she quickly pours a small helping for both of them. Stepping around him this time to avoid contact, she places the bottle on the table and reaches for the offered glass.

Both holding it up together, Chakotay expresses, “To Voyager’s safe passage home.”

She murmurs, “Safe passages,” before clinking his glass and throwing the whiskey back. She takes solace in its burning path down her throat with her eyes closed. Slowly opening her heavy lids, she gently gives her new comrade a smile. “I have been saving this bottle for a few years. I received it from my old captain when I earned my rank as commander.” Glancing at the bottle fondly, she adds, “It seemed fitting for this occasion.”

“And what is the special occasion?”

“Our first joint decision as the new command team after a disagreement.” She gives him a shy smile, “B’Elanna Torres will be the new chief engineer.” They gaze at each other and, for one second, she swears she can hears the air crackling between them. Tearing her eyes away, she looks down at the glass in her hand.

“That is a good reason to celebrate,” he cheerfully quips as he see her looking away. Staring at his empty glass as a bulky silence settles over them, his eyes swiftly fog over in a long lost memory, “You know, this is not the first time drinking this whiskey.” Seeing her chin tilt up, he grins at the curiosity lighting her face, “I remember when I was a boy, my father had this in a cabinet under his desk. I never saw him drink it, but it was unopened. One night, I became curious and took a rather large sip. If it wasn't enough that it burned my throat going down but, once it reached my belly, my body instantly rejected it.” Laughing at the memory, he adds, “My father said that the miserable feeling of it coming back up was punishment enough.”

Lifting a brow as a mischievous smirk plays along her lips, she says, “If you are still traumatized, then I can trade this in for… oh, I don't know,” dramatically shrugging her shoulders, “peach schnapps?”

Throwing his head back and laughing, he reaches for the bottle and invites her to sit on the couch with a flick of his wrist. Following behind her, he playfully beseeches, “I would never decline peach schnapps. It was the one drink to help me… follow through when I took Barianna on a moonlight swim in the creek behind my house.”

Feeling a relaxed giggle erupt from her lips, she silently wonders where this curious bubble of elation has come from her normally controlled body. Subconsciously rolling her eyes, she finds that she honestly doesn't care. For the first time since being abducted here, she has finally let herself relax enough to laugh. With her newly appointed first officer, of all people, but she knows she would have never gotten it from Tuvok. “Thank you for inviting me in. I have to admit that I had a certain trepidation that you would either refuse to socialize with me outside the ring of our newly minted professional rink or that I would have deeply offended your native customs by offering you alcohol.”

Choosing to sit on the other side of the two seater loveseat, he is quietly amazed that he can still feel the whispering heat silently pumping to a hypnotic rhythm between them. Ignoring the thought altogether, he pours another helping into both of their glasses and offers, “I want us to be comfortable and trustworthy around each other. I've learned, the hard way, that a captain has to keep boundaries between them and their crew members in order to run a productive ship, however, I want you to know that in my quarters – or yours for that matter – we can just simply exist as friends rather than colleagues.”

Leaning forward, she gently pats his knee and genuinely says, “I appreciate the offer. I hope we don't have to use it that much, but I have to keep reminding myself that we have a long voyage ahead of us and I might take you up on that offer.” Feeling an undercurrent of something strange sizzling under her finger tips, she quickly takes her hand away and covers her confusion with a sip from her drink.

Both falling into a compatible silence, they finish their drinks before Kathryn airily says, “I will be marking B’Elanna’s new position in the ships log tomorrow morning.”

Feeling pride fill his chest, he gives her a soft smile and replies, “She will not let you down.”

Stretching her own smile along her lips, she murmurs, “I know.”

Allowing silence to permeate their new friendship once more, it settles fluidly over their shoulders cascading them into something that is too comfortable for it to occur when they have only known each other for less than a week. Both have many duties to perform, specs to read, and crew evaluations to evaluate; but for now they are content with staying in each other's company for a little while longer. Both subconsciously agreeing to not wanting to go back to the real world just yet and both not questioning the invisible pull to stay sequestered in their newly minted haven.

It is he who speaks first; softly with no desire to stress their still fragile relationship. “Do you have family back home?”

Resting her elbow on the back of the couch, she holds her chin as she stares at the mass of dark, starry space in front of her. “My mother who lives on the farm in Indiana and my sister who lives wherever the wind takes her. You saw her picture.” Fluttering her fingers through the air at the roll of her eyes, her smile falls into frown. “My fiancé Mark and our dog, Molly, who was just about to give birth to her puppies the day we left for the Badlands.” Her voice carries softly across the room as the memory of their last night together flitters through her mind. Mark wanted to take his time to make love to her while she insisted on getting it done quickly. If she knew that that was going to be their last time together for a long while, then she would have taken all the time she had to show him how much she loves him rather than a quick fuck with the sole purpose to get back to her crew assignments. Shame and desire tingling along her cheeks, she clears her throat and asks the same, “What about you?”

Staring at her startling profile, he can't help but notice the way the light from the stars playing a beautiful symphony along her melancholy features. He briefly wonder what is going through her mind that has her so upset, but he once again reminds himself that this friendship is just that. “Both my mother and my father passed away a few years ago and the rest of my family has scattered with the Cardassians conquering our home planet. Since then, the Maquis have been my family. With most of them here with us, the pang of missed loved ones doesn't quite fill my heart as it does with others. However, seeing the desperation of all the other crew members – including you – to get back home, it encourages me to focus on the prime mission at hand.” Feeling that he needs to do something with his hands, he reaches for the bottle and refills both of their cups.

Feeling the weight of her glass becoming heavier at the sound of liquid cascading, she slowly glances down at his peaceful face. For the first time since marooning both of their crews here, an overwhelming sense of loneliness reaches out and strangles her tattered heart. Staring at the tattoo that adorns his tanned skin, she tells herself that the one and only person she would ever consider getting close to is the one she must abstain from. _We will have to work side by side on the bridge for the next seventy years. I can't fuck this up_. With the heaviness of her own depression settling in her throat, she looks back out at the endless expanse between her and home.

With a sticky silence surrounding them, both stare out onto the unfamiliar stars as they drink their shared whiskey.

Then, as if their bodies were magnetically tuned to each other, both of their eyes lock; warm chocolate brown to icy cool blue. The air around them becomes tempestuous with this strange, yet unyielding need to hold onto each other as tight as possible. As they lean forward, he fantasizes about threading his finger through her kept hair as she has a desire to run the tips of her nails along his tribal tattoo.

And just as fast as the moment came, it deflates when both consciously reprimanded themselves for thinking about such sinful actions. Ironically, the thought of Mark enters both of their minds, reminding themselves of the consequences of their actions.

Tipping the rest of the liquid down her throat and reveling in the way that it sears her guilt along the lining, she places the glass on the table in front of them and stands. Her muscles strain but her mind pushes her through. She knows she needs to leave now before…

Shaking her head, she wills her mind to not go down that road of possibility as delectable as it might be. Holding out her hand, a friendly gesture of a working relationship, she begins, “Well Commander,” when he takes ahold of her hand, her mind temporarily becomes dizzy with the heat radiating from both of their connected palms. Once again shaking her head, she softly sighs, “Chakotay, thank you for your hospitality.”

Somehow knowing that this is always going to be the hardest part whenever they meet as friends, he gently squeezes her hand and gives her a smile that doesn't necessarily touch his eyes and replies, “The pleasure was mine. Thank you for providing the drink and thank you for giving Torres a chance. Your decision soothes any qualms I have about Starfleet, even though I know you made your decision on merit rather than loyalty.” Then, without thinking about his actions or his words, he pulls her forward and murmurs, “My doors are always open if you need a place to relax and not be the only Starfleet Captain in this quadrant.”

Staring up into his coffee colored eyes, she finds herself saying, “The same goes for you as well.”

“Then how about next week you come over for dinner?” Sensing the hesitancy straining along the muscles in her hand, he willfully adds, “Just a mere forum for you to let go of your captains mask for an hour or so. Time and ship permitting of course.”

Reluctantly letting go of his hand, a smile strains across her lips, “Of course. I will let you know.” Turning away from him and marching towards the door as fast as decorum will allow, she turns back to him once she reaches it and thanks him again. “And please keep the whiskey, I insist.”

Walking around her to the other side of the door, he release the hold and lets it slide open. Grinning so that every little dimple shows on his cheeks, he bows his head and murmurs, “Thank you, Kathryn.”

At the sound of someone letting out a small cough in front of them, both shake the hazy rose coloring from their eyes and glance over to see who it is.

Seska, with a look of utter disbelief stinging her sharp features, folds her hands on the sides of her hips and momentarily sizes up the other woman standing in front of her. Hating Starfleet for as long as she can remember, a new found hatred courses through her veins at the thought of Chakotay saying her first name with such… admiration. Remembering the long journey home, she forces herself to smile as she says, “Chakotay, I needed to speak to you about the transporters.”

Sensing the trouble brewing in both the Commander and his counterpart, Kathryn nods her head and says, “I'll let you both get to it. Commander, I will see you on the bridge at 0700 hours.” Walking past the Bjorn female, she nods again, “Ensign,” and counts the steps until she can disappear around the corner.

Smelling the whiskey and the lust permeating his quarters, she rolls her eyes as she steps past Chakotay. “I can't believe it. You're fraternizing with the enemy.” Her words are cold and malice against the warmth that still lingers in the air. “Do I really need to tell you to keep it in your pants?” She throws the PADD on the table with a loud clank before turning to face him. Her own desire tinges her cheeks as the thought of sex fuels her motives. Slinking her arms around his shoulders, she presses her body against his and murmurs heavily into his ear, “You know you can always come to me if you are feeling lonely.” Lightly licking the skin of his lobe with her lips, she sighs, “I remember all the secret places you liked to be touched.”

Almost – almost! – giving in to her proposition, he can't help but feel the heat that was enveloping him a moment ago has dissipated into something he has no desire to do. Grabbing her wrists from behind his neck, he pulls them down off of his body and takes a step back. Feeling a new rush of oxygen filling his lungs, he subconsciously knows that he made the right choice. “That will not be necessary.”

Forcefully pulling her hands out from his strong ones, the anger in her voice barely covers her dejected embarrassment, “So you would rather give in to that Starfleet bitch who marooned us here?”

A rush of blinding fury sweeps through him and, without any thought to his actions, he roughly grabs her arms, “Don't you dare call her that ever again.” Stepping into her personal space, he sneers, “If I so much as hear you or anyone else breath a harmful and despicable word towards our new captain, I will personally make sure that you see nothing but the white plain walls of the brig on our long journey home.” Taking in a deep breath to calm the raging anger pounding against his ear drums, he quietly asks, “Do I make myself clear.”

Relishing in the pain he is bombarding her with, she sweetly smiles, “Crystal. However, be careful, Chakotay. You may have fell under her bewitching spell, but the rest of us aren't that easily persuaded. If you won't stick up for us, then maybe we will need to find a new leader to take the charge for the Maquis.” A rush of power rolls through her head and sweeps all along her body.

Sensing the hunger of her lust for power consuming him, he sneers, “Mutiny will never be tolerated on this ship by her or me; which is why I am moving your position from the bridge to Engineering effective immediately. Make your choices Seska and make them wisely. You will be surprised on which side of the aisle your supposed friends will fall on all for the sake of survival and freedom.”

Forcefully stepping out of his tight reign, she lets her fingers caress the heat of his cheek as she smartly grins in the way she knows will get under his skin, "Yes, well if word got out that you are fucking the Captain’s brains out, you might not have a lot of people on your side either.” Turning, she sashays out of his quarters with the flick of her hips and a damning smile adorning her lips.

As the sound of silence surrounds him, he angrily turns towards the half drunken bottle of whiskey and takes a swig before slamming it down on the table.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your support!


End file.
